Middle Child Syndrome
by 01justsomestories
Summary: Jason and Tim don't care about each other. Saving the other is just an obligation. After all they're family. Fury is almost as annoyed by their denial of caring as he is with their presence in the Marvel Universe. They both want to get back before anyone notices that they're gone, because in all honesty their whole situation is embarrassing. Good thing no one has noticed yet.
1. Chapter 1: The Anomalies

Chapter 1: The Anomalies

It was a dismal parking lot where the pair found the presumed cause of the second anomaly. In a past life they would have been at a Walmart; the ghost of its letters could still be seen in the off coloration on the wall. Occasionally, when strong wind blew through, a shopping cart would roll across the tattered asphalt like an urban tumbleweed. Two sets of eyes watched such a sight, one irritated by the accompanying shriek the cart made from a faulty wheel. A repulsion blast broke the wheel further, along with the entire shopping cart.

"I could never have a child." Tony grumbled, stepping over the burning pile of plastic. His mask was flipped up revealing his heavy under eye bags and a bitter frown. His facial concoction of frustration, irritation, and exhaustion could only be achieved by someone who had been woken up at 3 a.m and sent to an abandoned Walmart. "Too squeaky."

"Don't tell Peter that." Steve warned. He scanned the parking lot, hands gripping his shield. "And let's try not to warn whatever caused this that we're coming."

Tony flipped down his mask and it shut with a clank that rippled across the parking lot. "Whoops." He took a couple steps further, each one causing a dulled thunder of metal hitting asphalt. The parking lot was riddled with muddy puddles from a recent storm. Tony made an effort to splash through every one he came across.

The Captain rolled his eyes. He would have prefered to spar the Hulk, rather than explore a parking lot with a sleep deprived toddler adorned in an expensive soup can. Unfortunately the world seemed to like to take from Steve, so there he was in an unnervingly open space with only a man child to back him up if he got jumped. Said child began rotating as he searched for heat sources.

"Peter's not a kid," Tony said. "he's a teenager." Nothing was coming up on his sensors except a pigeon that kept hopping around the lot like a middle aged soccer mom who'd forgotten where she'd parked. "He'll still probably give me an aneurysm though. Get that inheritance early."

"He's in your will?"

Tony shushed him. The pigeon joined in with Tony by chirping at the American legend. Tony gave the bird a nod. In a world where seemingly everyone loved the Capsical it was nice to have at least one ally, albeit a feathered one. Sadly, it was a fleeting moment as his clanking scarred the pigeon off.

"Did you get something?"

"I think so.

Tony picked up his pace, the clanking getting more frequent as a result. He sent a look over his shoulder at Steve who was jogging behind him.

"Looks human sized too, though I'm not ruling out a flight of pigeons yet." He tried to keep the mood light, knowing full well it was the former; and the temperature was dangerously cold. There was a woosh as he started flying towards the heat source.

Clank he flipped open his face plate again. They had come to where all the shopping carts got stuck on their spontaneous migration. It was a dip where the ground under the asphalt had started to collapse. It was like a snapshot of a tornado composed of carts, and right in the eye storm a body rested, broken.

It was a short male whose hands gripped his stained stomach. He was masked and costumed in black and red with a leather jacket several sizes too big for him hung around his shoulders like a blanket. His shirt had been torn near the middle partially exposing his mauled stomach. Tony landed beside the boy his mind screaming: don't be dead.

The boy's chest move slightly and with each breath he whimpered. Steve kneeled next to the boy moving his hands to examine the wound. "Tony." He called. "Get someone here." He didn't risk scooping the figure up, afraid of worsening the cut across his gut. "Paramedics, S.H.I.E.L.D, anyone."

He closed his mask and for the third time that day his face plate ringed out soundwaves across the walmart gravesite. "J.A.R.V.I.S, call Fury." The boy reached a bloodied hand towards Steve, gripping onto his forearm; It left a red smear across his arm.

"Jason?" He croaked. "I think B's gonna, gonna-" He struggled to get out words in between his shallow breaths. He held on tighter to the forearm pulling himself up slightly so he could get closer. "He's gonna-" He slumped back into the ground, staring blankly towards Steve through his masked eyes .

"It'll be alright, kiddo." The Captain consoled as the boy lulled back into unconsciousness. His hand was still securely holding onto Steve through it weakened the longer he didn't wake up.

"It'll be alright" He echoed. He shifted, repurposing the jacket to help slow the blood flow. The ground beneath the boy had turned a sickening shade of red that blended in with the feathered cape that he wore.

A few feet away Tony broke his conversation to Fury, "Who the hell is Jason?"

The first anomaly had fallen into the main hull of the helicarrier, and considering that he was the trespasser, he seemed overly pissed at Fury's crew. The man wore a red helmet with the basic contours of a human face. The helmet blocked out any facial expressions, yet the man compensated through his colorful langue.

"Where the fuck did the kid go?" The man's shirt was tainted red, and seeing that he was unharmed Fury doubted the blood was his. He ignored the people drawing guns on him, and instead he motioned with his hand a little higher than his shoulder. "He's around yay tall, real annoying."

Agent Coulson shot Fury a glance before cocking his gun and aiming it at the unknown figure. "Identify yourself." Fury watched with a raised eyebrow. Although the figure had talked airly, his stance was closed off and he was shifting his weight back and forth.

He gestured towards his helmet, tapping it twice with a gloved fingertip. "Red Hood." He let out an exasperated sigh, before turning towards Fury, rapidly identifying him as the one in charge. "I think you need to fire that one."

Coulson straightened his arms out further. The man, Red Hood didn't seem bothered by the twenty something guns pointed at him, though as time ticked down his posture got more tense. He was the human equivalent of a time bomb, Fury knew that much. His muscles were spring locked and it was only a matter of moments before the man did something.

"Put your hands up, and Identify yourself." Coulson reiterated.

Coulson's words cut the wrong wire on the bomb sending the spring loaded man forward. He grasped a nearby agent holding them in such a way to limit movement while holding a gun to his side.

"Look, I don't have time for this." He dug it into the side harder making the agent wince. He was a newer agent, having only arrived early that month. Fury was determined to keep the agent alive long enough to learn his name. "Tell me where Red Robin is before I waste a bullet"

The hand gripping the gun held it securely, though the finger rested lightly on the trigger. If Fury had more trust in the agent he might have played the bluff, If Natasha was the one being threatened he would have bid his own eye. He was pretty sure this agent had ended lost in the engine room the other day. Instead he changed the game they were playing.

"We'll take you to him." He crossed his arms. "But not until you let go of my agent."

He could feel the eyes watching him calculatingly, considering the repercussions of releasing his hostage. Said hostage had gotten progressively paler in the man's grip. "We don't want anyone to die right before Christmas, now do we?"

The agent was pushed forward and barely caught by agent Hill by the back of his sleeve. "Good decision." Fury commented. He eyed the gun in Red Hood's hand. He somewhat solemnly switched the safety on before reholstering it.

"If the replacment's dead so are you." He warned.

Fury strode forward, completely unaware who Red Hood was looking for. "He's this way." The man didn't move, instead watching all the guns pointed at him. He gestured towards his own holstered gun. Fury signalled agent Coulson forward, everyone else sluggishly put their guns away.

"Good decision" Red Hood mocked while strutting forward. His bloodied chest made him look like a bird of paradise, though perhaps, he was more like a dodo, too confidant that there were no dangers that when one finally showed up he'd become extinct.

The trio had left the main control room and were making there way deeper into the underbelly of the ship. Fury was hoping he could make it to the detainment cells before the man beside him placed a bullet in his head, or at least tried to.

"So, who are you guys?" Red Hood asked. "You definitely aren't the League; some knock off of Ra's guys?"

"Ra's?" Coulson asked. The name was unfamiliar to Fury as well, and he knew everyone's name. Not knowing the intruder was largely why he wanted to dissect the inner workings of his mind, the wires that kept him ticking. Also, knowing which buttons to press always made things simpler.

Yet he didn't know any of the man's buttons, instead, for when the man chose to get aggressive, Hill was calling a certain agent who could easily detain the man... theoretically… hopefully.

"You really must be new on the scene." He crossed his arms, hands gripping tightly down on his upper arm. "I don't think Ra's likes it when others steal his toys." He uncrossed his arm to run a finger alongside the wall as they walked, the other clenched at the side of his hip, holding a phantom gun.

Whoever this Red Robin was, he was the only thing stopping a gloved hand from grabbing a real gun. The only button he could press, at this point Fury was so reliant on it that it was more like slamming down on a lever.

The gears whirling inside the man's head were the most concerning thing to Fury. An aware, likely intelligent opponent, had always seemed more dangerous to him than a brutish one. It was a spectrum though, he still would take this man over the Hulk.

Each moment that passed, increased the odds that the man would call Fury on his BS. Of course, Red Hood could have already called his bluff and was merely biding his time. Waiting till they got further away from help. A worse decision in the long run, the man must have been clueless if he didn't know of the heavy hitter making her way to him.

"How's he doing?" Red Hood inquired. "The replacment's alright isn't he? No major injuries?"

Shit. "Yeah, the kid seemed alright." Red Hood nodded. His hand started to clench again, opening and closing repeatedly. His steps became heavier.

"Good, that's good."

Things were not good. He had begun to get the feeling maybe he was the dodo. They went through a door that slammed loudly behind the trio.

His non visible face was not a hindrance, Hood's body language provided all the accommodations Fury needed; he was currently trapped in a hallway with a rabid dog whose tether was slowly getting loosened.

"You seem to care for him." Fury commented.

"More of an obligation."

Another corner turned. More seconds passing. A child getting more reckless as they ran out of time to answer questions. The anxiety of those last ten seconds. The hopeless last ditch effort to bubble in the final five questions. The aftermath of knowing that your time has run out.

They turned a corner and he was slammed to the ground. Coulson rushed forward, yet the figure grabbed his shoulders, redirecting him against the metal wall he had been inspecting. Coulson crippled to the spotless floor with an audible thump. He stuck something into the man's side that caused Coulson's muscles to start to relax.

"Minor sedative." The man reassured. He placed a boot atop Fury's chest. His hand gripped the gun aiming it towards Fury, the other reaching down to hold him up by the collar. "Now tell me who the hell you guys are and where Red Robin is." He clicked the safety off.

"You're bluffing."

The man chuckled darkly. Fury's fingers struggled to tap a button near his side. "I only need one person to get information." He let go of the collar causing Fury's head to bang against floor. "I don't doubt your lackey knows nearly as much."

"Does it seem like we know where he is? Who he is?" Fury starred past the barrel into his own reflection in the helmet. "You're smart enough to have realized that we don't have him."

The barrel shooks slightly.

"Tell me where he is, I'm not going back to Gotham with a dead robin, I'm not facing Bats that way." He leaned closer Fury, denial reeking from his mouth. "So stop lying and start talking, it's in your own best interest." The gun rested on his forehead, it was slightly warm, it'd be shot recently.

"And to think I thought you were smart."

The boot pushed harder on his chest, he was lucky that a rib hadn't cracked yet. The radiation of hatred wafting off Red Hood was enough to give Fury skin cancer, or at least some suspicious moles. Fury increased his manipulative hold. He couldn't get the man to the holding cells from here, but he still hadn't failed.

"It seems like your little buddy must in bad shape, yet you're wasting your limited time interrogating someone who knows nothing."

"He's not my buddy."

The Hood's instency to deny any relationship to his associate intrigued Fury. Something was complicated there, an obligation he had said.

"Say that when he's dead."

The man winced before gripping the gun tighter, shaking slightly.. Sure, he thought just an obligation.

"Shut up." Red Hood snarled.

Fury's eyes caught sight of a shadow of red pass behind the man. He smirked. The pressure on his chest was extremely painful at the point, not that it would matter in a few seconds.

"Fuck you." Fury enjoyed seeing the man suddenly tense up at his words before spinning around.

Natasha jumped towards the man who had turned around too late, her legs wrapping around his neck, she pulled back causing him to fall towards the ground. As he fell he shot the gun with it meeting its mark inside the bicep of Fury who braced the pain with a clench of his jaw that made his teeth hurt.

A syringe in Natasha's hand tried to make contact with the target. The two grappled on the ground, and each time that she got close he would flip her around. He tossed his weight around, while still being evasive enough to not get stabbed. "You'll have to speak to my pharmacist before you stick something in me." He flipped Natasha over rolling with her so that he was on top. Her hand holding the syringe was pinned against the ground.

Fury held the gunshot wound wincing as he went over to Coulson. A finger pressed against his neck assured that the man hadn't killed him, though if what had been administered was a sedative was still unknown.

Natasha had gotten Red Hood into and arm bar and was getting dangerously close to breaking his skin with the needle, as well as his arm.

"Oh hell no" He grunted, twisting out of the grip. He rolled her over again. The two were at a standstill neither able to completely overtake the other.

Fury's arm had taken out a loan, and its student debt was currently ransaking his nerves. He was slumped against the wall beside Coulson observing the man. Red Hood kept on trying to grab a something. Natasha kept on canceling his attempts. Her foot came down on his hand causing him to mutter out swears under his breath.

He had begun to get concerned that the battle would be never ending. When a voice came overhead through the speaker system. "A second anomaly has been detected."

Red Hood's head snapped up. "Red Robin." Though he was only distracted for a moment, it was long enough to break the cycle. Natasha thrust her hand forward bringing the needle into his side. He gripped it, before standing to his feet.

"I just want to reiterate." He pulled the needle from his side tossing it to the ground where he crushed it with a boot. "Fuck you." His hand grabbed the wall to help support himself. "I cannot emphasize that enough."

Natasha caught the man as he fell forward with droopy eyelids. "Fuck you guys so much." His dead body weight caused Natasha to grunt and adjust her grip. She glanced over to Fury.

"Sir, you and Coulson need to get medical attention."

"I know." He pulled himself from the ground. His hand was covered with a sickly substance. He had checked, and there hadn't been an exit wound meaning the bullet was still taking up quarters in his upper arm. "Let's find somewhere to set this guy first."

"Sir?"

"Yes?"

The man was slumped across her shoulder like a toddler who had eaten an entire wedding cake and had to deal with the childhood equivalent of a hangover; a sugar crash. A drop of drool was threatening to roll down her shoulder.

"Who the hell is Red Robin?"


	2. Chapter 2: Blame Game

Chapter 2: Blame Game

Tim was prepared to face a lot of things when he woke up. He was expecting Jason to be a complete ass before reminding him not to almost die next time. He was expecting Alfred to be tutting over him somewhat passive aggressively, and possibly Bruce watching from the staircase, with Tim unable to tell if it was out of concern or disappoint.

But he was not in the Cave. No Jason being a jerk, no concerned Alfred, no emotionally stunted Bruce. There was just a blonde man sitting in an armchair watching him sleep. Definitely not unsettling in the slightest.

He could still feel the mask over his eyes, yet he was no longer in his Red Robin costume, instead some red and yellow scratchy pajamas. An IV was plugged into his arm, pumping him full of stuff he wasn't sure he wanted.

Blondie had noticed he was awake, but was waiting for Tim to do something first. Blondie's frame reminded him of Jason, just a bit taller with more muscle mass. Considering that Jason was built like a truck, it was unnerving to see someone built stronger. Blondie was possibly a meta, Tim had yet to determine that.

He took notice of the room he was in. A med bay. He eyes flicked to his bandage wrapped center. Whatever painkillers he was on did little to help the acheing, he'd grown an immunity to most of them. The pain and wound were just another variable to consider. The room was sparse for the most part, just his bed, the armchair, and the machines he was connected to as well as a window looking over the city. His heart rate pinged on the monitor behind him, slightly faster than normal.

A weapon would have been nice, the IV needle was a possibility, but getting it out and disconnecting it from the wire wouldn't be worth the time wasted. He was at a size disadvantage, injured, and in unknown territory. His best bet was to get Blondie to pity him more than he already was. Pity, Tim had found, was great for lowering someone's defenses and getting information.

He gripped his midsection, doubling over and letting out a weeze. The man's face contorted into concern.

"You okay, Red?" He asked.

So he knew who he was. He could still work around that. His self hatred hurt more than the pain, after all he'd gotten himself into mess. Probably Jason too, though he'd deal with that shit show after he got away from Blondie.

He shook his head. "It hurts." He pouted up towards the larger man who had begun to melt any defense. It wounded his dignity to have to act pathetic, but thankfully demon brat wasn't around to mock him. "W-where am I?"

"Avengers' tower."

"Where?"

Concern changed to confusion, he'd have to back peddle. He let out a second strained gasp, this one was more real as he had tried to sit up. Avengers' tower, that was a name to remember.

"Be careful, you don't want to rip your stitches." He could agree with Blondie on that. Then he'd have to restitch them and that'd be a pain without Alfred's help. Not preferable, but if required he'd rip the stitches open like a child on christmas who'd just found out his parents were getting a divorce.

"Can you help?" He winced. One hand wrapped around his center, the other grabbed the headboard. Blondie nodded, getting into arms reach to help Tim sit up. He didn't exit range afterwards.

"Why am I here?"

"I don't know if I'm classified to say."

Mysterious. Tim didn't mind a mystery, though he suspected Jason was a large reason he was stuck here. He grabbed onto the man's upper arm feigning a need of support; he succeeded in pulling the man closer. For some reason, Tim holding onto his arm seemed to spook Blondie.

"You were bleeding out in a parking lot." He caved. "You caused some sort of anomaly."

"Oh."

Teleportation likely, he had definitely not been in a parking lot when he started to bleed out and he doubted that Jason would have left him to die in one. He didn't think Jason held a lot value for Tim's life, yet he hadn't tried to kill Tim in months. They'd been getting along better.

"Where are my things?"

"In the lab downstairs." The man pulled his breath in. "I wasn't supposed to tell you that." He smiled towards Tim who was hanging off his arm like a drugged up koala. "Not like you're going to grab them though."

"And Red Hood?"

That made the man stiffen. Of fucking course. Jason had made things worse somehow. As long as Hood wasn't dead Tim could fix this mess… somehow. He was still working some things out.

"Sorry kiddo, can't tell you that one."

Tim whimpered through the pain, hoping it'd work a second time. It didn't. Seemed like he'd gotten all the information he could, or almost all of it.

"Who are you?"

This sent the man for a loop. His eyebrows shot up. He onced over the injured boy, confusion poorly hidden behind his concern.

"Steve Rogers, Captain America."

Tim's lack of recognition seemed to startle Blondie more. Tim murmured something then motioned with his hand for Steve to come in closer so he could hear. His ear was turned to Tim.

"Sorry Steve, you seemed nice."

Tim brought his knee into the side of the man's head. His hand ripped the IV out and then stabbed it into Steve's shoulder. He vaulted over the man's shoulder his stomach whining after him, begging for him to go lay back down in the bed. The man's shocked voice called after him.

He closed the door behind him and hurried down the hallway. He didn't run, instead observing the hallway he was in and looking for a tight space he could fit in that the man couldn't. He came to a doorway. On the other side he could hear the chattering of voices. He caught sight of the ventilation system on the ceiling. He opened the door a crack to confuse Steve before using the wall to help himself reach the grate.

He could hear the heavy footsteps running down the hallway. He struggled to open the grate. He was holding himself up only by his arms and his injured midriff was chewing Tim out for all his life decisions leading up to that moment. Tim was able to open the grate enough to slip in, he saw Steve pass below the grate and run through the cracked open door.

"Red Robin is out." Steve yelled. "Lock the building down." The following commotion made Tim's time limited. The vents were not the ideal place to be, they were loud and after checking camera's he would be compromised in minutes. Not to mention they were disgusting.

He allowed himself to check his stomach and was thankful to see nothing had torn yet, a few more fancy flips and he'd be getting intimate with a needle. He could hear Alfred's voice patronizing him for not letting his wounds heal.

"Master Timothy" He imitated. "You really should be resting."

He dragged himself through the vents wondering how his life had come to this. He really shouldn't have chosen the vents. He had no idea where he was going. He was like a tourist trying to hard not appear like lost, despite being totally lost.

"My life is a mess." He decided. He came to a grate and peaked out. He heard people talking underneath it. He didn't recognize who was speaking.

"I can't believe you were beaten by an injured ten year old." Someone laughed. Tim bristled as he wasn't ten years old. It was Damian's M.O to have his age confused, not Tim.

"He plays dirty." Steve said. "He was being all helpless."

"We told you he was likely dangerous." A female voice chastised. "Especially considering what his accomplice was like."

Jason. They were talking about Jason. A more irrational part of him wanted to jump from the vents and directly find out what they knew. That'd be an idiotic move. As much as Tim hated the vents, it was better than placing himself in a losing battle against Blondie and Co.

"Has anyone told him about the kid yet?" The first voice asked.

"Fury's using him as a bargaining chip." The female replied. "Tell us who you are and we'll let you know if he's dead or not sorta thing."

"That's cruel." Steve said.

And stupid in Tim's own opinion. Jason would always choose self preservation over Tim. Jason would choose self preservation over anyone, it was just his nature.

"Did it work?"

"To an extent."

That was easily the most shocking part of Tim's day. He really needed to find Jason, before he became too sentimental for his own good. Though he wouldn't find him if he stayed in the vent being sentimental himself. It wouldn't take long for them to find out where he was.

He continued crawling, his vision was a little blurry from the pain. His teeth gripped on the collar of his shirt to stop himself from making any noise. The trio were not worried presumably as they thought he couldn't get out. He wasn't above proving them wrong.

A robotic voice overhead made his day significantly worse, if that was possible. "Sir, it appears as if Red Robin is somewhere the ventilation system."

"Locate where yet J.A.R.V.I.S?"

"I will notify you when I find him."

Tim picked up his pace. He placed a hand down too hard on the metal causing it to cling out a noise. He winced, picking up speed. It was definitely time to leave the vents. He saw a grate above him.

He peaked his face over seeing a man with a quiver on the other side observing the grate. Arrow man let out a screech jumping back. "Holy crap, its Walmart boy."

Tim had so many questions, most of them were unimportant. Though he did have a few to ask. He kicked out the grate. Something ripped. He was definitely bleeding again. Today was just such a great day for Tim.

He launched himself out towards the man landing on his back and wrapping his arms around his neck and his legs around his middle like a child getting a piggyback ride. "I'm not being known as Walmart boy." He said. He slammed tightened his arms around the man's neck, choking him. "Extremely dehumanizing."

The man slammed backwards into a wall trying to shake Tim. When Tim wouldn't fall off he continued doing it, each time making Tim grunt in pain. The robot voice came overhead again. "Sir, please try not to kill the boy." Tim gritted his teeth harder. He didn't need some overhead voice to come to his aid. He was fine. Fine if you looked past the reopened gash on his stomach.

"Get the hell off."

"Tell me where Red Hood is."

"No way little dude."

Tim's place on the man's back left him positioned against the quiver. He recognized what seemed like some trick arrows similar to what Green Arrow used. Though he had no idea what they did, so he grabbed a normal one.

He brought it down into the man's shoulder blade. The shrieking continued and Arrow man backed into the wall one final time, Tim let go rolling away from him. The yellow parts of his shirt had started to turn red.

"You stabbed me!" He accused.

"You kidnapped my brother." He thought for a moment. "And me too I guess."

Arrow had one hand holding onto the arrow shaft, the other threw a punch at Tim. He didn't dodge fast enough and it grazed the side of temple. Sloppy on his part. If he wasn't slowly bleeding out, he could have dodged. He tried to kick at the man, but doubled over in pain. He gasped out trying to see past his blackening vision.

"I am not falling for that, Kid." Arrow man said. He kicked out Tim's leg making him fall painfully on the ground. He tried to stop from crying out, but failed. His hands had become covered in his own blood.

Blondie burst into the room followed by the presumed male and female voices. Tim made eye contact with him through the pain. He tried to push himself off the ground, but only left bloody hand marks on the otherwise clean.

"Clint!" Steve yelled. "What are you doing?!"

"How is this my fault?!"

"What the hell Clint." The male voice said. "He's just a kid."

Clint gestured haphazardly at the arrow sticking out of his shoulder. "Hello? He literally stabbed me."

Tim chuckled a bit. He tried to push himself up again, but his hands slipped on the blood making him fall down again. He gave it one more chance, and was finally able to bring himself to his wobbly feet. He had lost this battle. It still didn't mean he was just going to let them just drag him off. He got into a defensive stance eyeing everyone in the room.

"How about one of you guys tell me where the hell Red Hood is." He swayed like a tree in the midst of a tropical storm. "Before I find out myself."

The male voice started laughing. He was a slight man with a goatee, just a couple inches taller than Tim. It was understandable to Tim why his was laughing, he must have looked pathetic, standing up in a puddle of his own blood, barely able to keep himself from hunching over. Not just pathetic, pitiful. He smirked before tossing his dead weight at goatee man.

Goatee man fell underneath him and Tim got up and started running. He hadn't run earlier, but now was definitely was the time for running. Or at least he thought he was running, he was more hobbling slowly from the four people.

"I understand now, Clint." Goatee man empathized behind him.

The back of his shirt was grabbed and he was pulled back by the woman. She was a redhead and exactly Dick's type. It was kind of amusing to Tim to imagine the two meeting.

"Hey." He greeted.

Bruce would have been disappointed in him. He hung like a kitten by the scruff of his neck. His body finally went limp as his adrenaline started leaving him. There was a bribe in Jason's future to get him to never speak of this mishap of a mission ever again. Once he found him that was.

"Hey." She replied. Steve was behind her watching him worriedly. Tim felt Blondie's urge to go check on him, yet the man stayed out of Tim's range. Smart.

She went over to Steve while still holding tightly onto Tim. "Take him back to the medical bay before he bleeds out." She narrowed her eyes. "And don't let him leave this time."

Tim was held bridal style by Blondie. Absolutely humiliating. Today really was the worst day. He still chose to Blame Jason, even if it wasn't his fault. He kept fading in and out of sleep.

Eventually, when he found himself mostly consciousness, he was back in his bed. There was an IV in his arm once again, his stomach was re-bandaged and Steve was back in his armchair. He tried to move his arms but found them restrained, same thing with his feet.

"Sorry kiddo." The man consoled watching as the boy strained against the restraints.

"Don't call me kiddo." He spat. Earlier the man's pity had been helpful, now it was just annoying.

The man got closer to Tim. "They aren't too tight are they?"

Tim glared through the mask. "Don't come any closer." He warned. "I can still head butt you."

The man retreated back to his arm chair and went back to watching Tim, sadly? Worriedly? Pitifully? He couldn't tell. He didn't like any off it.

"I don't know who you are Captain America." He said. "But you and your buddies are the worst."

He'd work things out. He figure out what to do.

* * *

There was a reason that Jason tried to stay away from the bats. Actually there were several reasons Jason stayed away from the Bats, and one was that things went bad whenever he interacted with them. Jason blamed the replacement for his situation. The baby bird had to accidentally cross paths with Jason, had to join Jason take down the drug ring, had to almost die. Now Tim was probably bleeding out somewhere, and it was Jason's fault, because he couldn't save him.

He was chained to a table by his wrists and his ankles chained to the chair. His clothes had been replaced with some surprisingly comfortable cotton ones. His belt was gone as well, along with his helmet. The only thing remaining was his domino mask which they hadn't been able to get off.

Across from his the one eye man was glaring at him with his arm wrapped up and in a sling with the audacity to use Timmy as leverage. The man, Fury, was some sort of leader to a spy organization. Jason was vaguely excited to gloat to Bruce about finding something he didn't know about. Things rarely went past Batman, things did like the Court of Owls, but it was rare. The thought of bringing up the spy organization was Jason's only source of joy.

Well that and the idea of getting revenge for them trying use the replacement as a chip in their game of poker.

"Who are you?" Fury asked.

"Already told you."

Fury tapped his fingers on the table eyeing Jason like a spider he was deciding on how to crush.

"That's too bad." He held a manila folder in his hands and started to flip through it. "I could have told you about your little obligation."

He kept on calling the replacement an obligation. It was fine when Jason called him that, that's what the kid was to him. He couldn't just let the baby bird go and get himself killed. When the man said it, it sounded wrong; like Tim wasn't a person.

"He's fine." Jason stated hoping it was true. The idea of having to carry Tim's cold body back to Gotham made his stomach churn like a Victorian country girl making butter from spoiled milk.

"I don't know about that." Jason clenched his jaw. He had been told that the replacement had been doing better. An agent had taken pity on him and in passing of bringing food told Jason that the boy had gotten stitched up. "He ripped his stitches the other day, lost a lot of blood."

That idiot. Why couldn't he just lay still and wait for Jason to go find him. Isn't that what children were told to do when they got lost? Stay put and wait. Tim was supposed to be the smart robin.

"You better hope he's not dead when I find him." Jason threatened.

"I don't think you're in a position to barter." Fury closed the manila folder pushing it towards Jason, but just out of his grip. "Tell us who you are and I'll tell you whether we think he's going to live or not."

Jason knew what he was doing. The manipulative bastard held Tim's well being like a prize above him. Jason hated that it was working.

"I'm Red Hood. I work out of Gotham. I am the second Robin of Batman." He was hoping the name Batman would scare the man. He hated bringing Bruce into things, he hated bringing any of the bats into anything just look where it got him, yet his name did tend to have a certain effect on others.

The manila folder was so close; so painfully close. Then it was snatched away. Fury abruptly stood up taking the folder with him. Jason slammed his fists on the table.

"We had a deal!" He yelled.

"That deal required telling the truth, making up names will get you nothing."

"What the actual fuck are you talking about?"

Fury circled around Jason. He was observing Jason's body language. That jerk was always relying on Jason's body language. Apparently his words weren't good enough.

"I thought you would have some concern about the boy, I guess he really is just an obligation."

Jason slammed his fists down again. The handcuffs clanged on the metal table. It caught the man's attention who watched him with a insufferable raised eyebrow.

"You don't get to call him that." He spat. "I told you the truth so let me see what's in that folder before I pry it from your cold dead hands."

"Where is Gotham."

Jason thought he understood the mind games the man was playing at before, but now he was just confused.

"What do you mean where is Gotham?"

"I mean where is Gotham."

Jason snarled, but still chose to play the man's game. It wasn't like he was telling the man anything that he couldn't figure out. "East Coast, New Jersey."

The man looked at the double sided glass for a moment before handing the folder to Jason. He left not saying anything as he left the room.

It was difficult to flip through the files with his chained up hands, but he managed. Some were reports on his condition, others were pictures. They hadn't been able to get Timbo's mask off either. He saw a picture that showed they had restrained Tim to his bed, a note under it read: _limiting movement to prevent escape or the re-tearing of stitches_. Jason chuckled, they were underestimating the replacement. The restraints weren't even metal.

Overall it was reassuring to see that Tim didn't seem to be about to die. Jason still planned to get out of wherever he was before the idiot worsened his injuries again. He stopped looking at Tim in the photos instead looking at where Tim was. A pane of glass in the room showed several tall buildings that Jason planned to use to find Tim. Wherever he was, he was in a skyscraper. He just needed to identify the other buildings once he got out.

The door reopened, Jason didn't look up. "Fuck off, Fury."

"Langue." A voice that wasn't Fury said. Jason snapped his head up to observe the new figure.

"Are you supposed to be American man or something?" Jason asked. The man was dressed ridiculously, it was like he'd gotten tangled in an American flag and then decided that the look was flattering. It wasn't.

"Captain America." He corrected. "You can call me Steve though."

"Yeah, no."

The man sat down in the chair across from him. Jason had seen this man in the corner of one of the pictures. The creep had been watching over the replacement. He glared towards the man.

"So you ruffled the replacement's feathers?" He didn't try to mask the hatred in his voice. It was enjoyable to watch the man squirm. "Nothing says American hero like beating up a helpless kid." Tim wasn't helpless, far from it. Tim had just turned 17 though and was badly hurt and the man across from him was holding the boy against his will.

"That wasn't me." He protested.

"Just your friends."

They sat in silence, Jason was annoyed by the presence of the man. His virtuous aura was all a mask and Jason was thrilled for the moment when he could beat it out of the man. That'd be satisfying. Other people weren't allowed to pick on any of the bat bunch, it was a Gotham masked freaks exclusive club. Well a Gotham masked freaks and Alfred exclusive Club.

"Are you guys ever going to let me see him?" The continued silence answered the question. Jason humphed setting the file down and staring into the table.

"He said you guys were brothers."

Jason kept staring into the table. That was out of character for Tim. He supposed that they were. In their messed up family, that was what they were, brothers; and family didn't let family get held captive by some creepy spy organization.

"Technically."

It didn't matter if this was all Tim's fault. He wasn't about to let the replacement rot. All he had to do was bide his time and play the right cards and then he could bring Armageddon down against the people who dared to mess with Jason, or worse those Jason was required to care about.

He'd find Tim, he'd fix this. Then he'd bribe Timbo so that he didn't tell Bruce that things had gotten as bad as they had.

Things would work out. He kept telling himself that. Things would be fine. He'd get them both out of Tim's mess.

* * *

Why did things always have to be complicated for Fury. For once he wanted a simple case. Not mysterious anomalies who were _conveniently_ related. He was mainly determined to keep brothers from joining up, before he learned why they were here. They were manageable apart, yet together he wasn't as sure.

Unluckily, since life regularly tossed horrible situations at him, he was handed two individuals who were determined to find each other. Though maybe, if he manipulated the situation right…

"Agent Hill."

"Fury?"

He handed her Red Hood's file. "I need you to leak some information to anomaly 2. He needs to know where the other one is." She grabbed the file and loitered with a question.

"Won't he just come find him? Sir I don't understand the intention."

"The first anomaly won't be here." He picked up his own file leaving to go give the man the folder, but not before picking his brain first. If life was nice to Fury for once, then the man would take the prize, unaware of the poison riddled inside of it.

Things would work out. People were predictable.


	3. Chapter 3: Insecurities

Chapter 3: Insecurities

A part of Steve was thankful that he couldn't see beyond the soulless whites of the mask. What hid behind them made Steve uneasy. Maybe a lingering intelligence that hid in the background only to snap forward in a moment's notice or an unhinged violence that had to be coerced out or worst of all precise calculating eyes that knew more than they should.

Steve suspected it was the latter

They'd decided to call the kid, Red- though Tony and Clint preferred Walmart Boy and had managed to sway Natasha. As of yet, Red hadn't made a separate attempt of leaving, though something in the hidden gaze suggested nothing good of his seeming compliance.

Red Robin was always asking questions, dodging in and out in a verbal fencing game. He'd parry whenever someone interrogated him only to counter with a loaded question. Steve felt afraid to tell the kid what he had for lunch two Sundays ago. Who knew what he could do with that.

After a mishap with the accomplice, security around Red had been tightened. Although the boy seemed intrigued by this, having lifted a masked eyebrow, he didn't seem concerned. His lips had quirked a bit after finding out he'd be moving.

It wasn't long before he was in the Avengers section of the towers. Fury's requested to always have eyes pinned on the boy. Tony seemed fairly happy with this, he enjoyed decoding the boy's brain almost as much as Red seemed to like to pick theirs.

Clint wasn't as happy.

Hence the situation that Steve walked into. He'd just gotten back from his morning jog to see the rest of the present team awoken by a different type of alarm clock.

"Give that back!" Clint yelled chasing after the handcuffed teen who held a mug of coffee in his hands. The teen pranced around the archer while drinking the coffee as if it'd be his last.

"What's happening?" He asked as he ambled over to Natasha, his eyes never leaving the one sided squabble.

"Walmart Boy stole Clint's coffee." She supplied. Her body was tense on the chair, and she leaned her weight forward to watch intently. A hand dancing on the arm rest.

"I didn't realize he'd been allowed outside his room yet."

In the dance between Clint and Red, it was apparent who was the ballet instructor and who was the kid that'd stumbled into the wrong class. Clint's fruitless grabs were to Steve like getting sucker punched with a balloon. Bizarre, harmless, yet unpleasant all the same.

"He wasn't."

"Then how'd he?"

"I don't know."

It wasn't just her head that was un-moving, but rather her entire body except for her set of pupils following the boy around the room.

"Are you hearing me, Kid?" Clint asked.

The teen didn't respond, instead just drinking faster. Tony was watching from behind the counter, leaning forward slightly on his elbows. Natasha's gaze sapped in every detail of Red's movement. Her gaze was permeable to all information and her frown deepened the longer she watched.

Clint did a dash at him to which the boy twisted into the limbo instinctively before twirling around to look at Clint before darting off towards the bar. A slight limp now apparent. Natasha's hands flickered with a slight clench at Clint's failures.

"Be careful Clint." Steve said. "I don't think Fury wants either of you to get restitched again." While Red had torn his stitches fighting Clint, Clint had torn his from reaching for a jar of pickles on the top shelf.

"If he doesn't give it back he'll need more."

Clint made another grab at the boy who turned, rolling off of Clint's back and dropping down only to use the momentum to jump onto the bar. With a look of defiance on his face, and one of defeat on Clint, the boy chugged the last of the coffee before dropping it onto the bar where it dully clattered.

"You can have it now."

He climbed off the bar, his limp had worsened from the extraneous movement. He would wince every couple of steps, although he had a small smile that hadn't left since Steve first saw him with the coffee mug.

He turned to Steve. "I'd like to return to my room.".

Clint had picked up the empty cup and glared at Red. The teen didn't give Clint the gratification of a glance, instead staying focused on Steve. "So I can lay down before I have to speak to Fury."

The whiplash form the change in tone made Steve feel as if he was strapped to the top of a roller coaster by his arms and told to enjoy the ride before being tossed out to face whatever loops came up. And boy were there loops.

"Uh." Clint was sadly staring into his mug of coffee, Tony seemed about ready to dissect the teen, and Natasha was still just watching. "Sure, kiddo."

Red Robin began to walk towards his room. His hands jingled from handcuffs. His limp was now more apparent than before. Steve gave him an arm for him to lean on, the hair on the back of his neck stood up apparently thinking he'd given his arm to a vulture. Who knows, maybe he had.

"Thanks." He grumbled.

It didn't take them long to get to the room, and they were both fairly quiet on the journey. The boy's stare was ahead, his fingers tapping on the side of his leg. The boy was drowning in his thoughts and was too far in to notice the door.

"Hey Kid?"

The boy's fingers stopped. He sized up the door.

"Oh."

He scuffed the ground with his foot. His fingers began to tap on his leg again. The door handle remained hand-less.

"Are you going to?" He gestured at the door.

He didn't need to see the boy's eyes to understand the look shot his way. It was as if the apparently mundane situation had led the boy into a comatose state of boredom.

"It's locked."

"But how'd you get-"

Red sucked in his breath. His hand let go of Steve's arm to hold his center. Steve was quick to have Jarvis unlock the door. His question now gone, the new tenant being mild concern. He helped the teen to the bed, reattaching the cuffs to a chain that was near the leg of the bed.

"You really shouldn't push Clint like that." Steve said. The boy had started to sink into the bed, his tiny frame getting lost in the assortment of blankets, pillows, and throws. A couple of them had been stained in blood and would have to be replaced.

The teen shrugged. "I was on coffee withdrawal."

"You shouldn't drink too much cof-"

The boy pouted at Steve. A parry that made Steve clamp his mouth shut. His fingers were still tapping away on his leg. He never stopped pouting, and a hand still supported his center.

"Have you heard anything about Hood." With every parry inevitably came a counter, and Paired with his pout his counter should be classified as a weapon of mass destruction.

"I haven't heard very much." Red's gloom intensified. The boy let out a sigh, that Steve suspected he wanted him to hear, but was still quiet enough that he couldn't be sure. "Just that he's a handful."

A smile reclaimed ownership of Red's face. He wished that the teen would do it more rather than try and rip Steve's heart out like a commercial that had teary animals. "That sounds like him."

"So he's a good brother?"

Steve was fully prepared for the parry. Steve considered leaving the room before he would inescapably reveal more than Fury wanted. Getting an actual answer left Steve more dejected than a sidestep would have.

"It's complicated."

"Family can be tough." Steve tried. Bucky was like family and that was a rocky road if Steve had ever had to drive down one.

The teen laughed, though he wasn't in the room with Steve. Red had traveled somewhere Steve doubted he'd ever know about.

"You have no idea."

Steve wasn't in the room very long before he made his move to leave. The teen had stopped making conversation, and had gone back to swimming through his tsunami of thoughts. Steve wondered if that's what the boy's eyes looked like, a tsunami. A wave that rolled in with the intensity to level buildings.

It wasn't till he closed the door and locked it he realized he'd missed the biggest parry yet. It had been the re-clicking of the lock that had triggered it. He shook his head in defeat.

"Damn."

* * *

Red Hood was completely different than his supposed brother in Tony's opinion. The kid was entertaining, with a hidden wit that Tony hoped rivaled his own. Not to be vain or anything. The man across from him was not witty, most of his punchlines were born from a swear. Not exactly breathtaking.

Tony had been waiting for the moment to meet the first anomaly, and there was no real reason he should be here. It was really just that he was taking an unsupervised vacation until Fury got finished talking to the Kid or found out why Tony had gone out. Until then…

"So, you're Jason aren't you?"

The masked man was frankly physically imposing, especially considering, his 'brother' looked like a twig, the difference was startling. Even if not for the muscle, his presence made the room crowded as he bore down on Tony with a sharpened glare. It was more satisfying than Tony would admit to see the man splutter, even if it was barely noticeable. The brief break in his threatening demeanor was worth the inevitable hit now on his head.

"Sorry, I don't know a Jason."

The man's hands were chained to the table though Tony was still conscious to not put his hands within scratching difference.

"That's the name the boy mumbled while he was half dead." He re-looked over the man's build. "You kinda look the man he thought Jason was, similar build."

The man pushed against the handcuffs but didn't say anything. Tony was immensely uncomfortable with the silence, assuming that the man, Jason, was planning his murder in the void of talking.

"That kid's real smart isn't he."

_Silence._

"Is he really your brother?"

_Silence._ A set of clenched hands.

"He keeps asking about you."

_Bang._ Tony jumped as Jason's hands slammed on the metal table. He found his voice caught in his throat wishing he had come in the Iron-man suit.

"Who the fuck are you even supposed to be?"

Swearing- so creative. Jason's articulation mastery was not Tony's primary prickling though. Tony wasn't used to being asked who he was, sworn at sure, but never asked for a name. Maybe Jason and Walmart boy were really related, they probably grew up under the same rock if they both didn't know him.

"Tony Stark." He grinned mimicking repulsion blasts. "You know, Iron man." His smile was not returned.

"Am I supposed to know who that is?" Jason paused. "Or care?"

Tony spluttered a second time unsure if this was a mind game or if Jason really had been living as a nomad in an uncharted desert for the past twenty years.

"What do you care about? Bleaching a single strand of hair?"

Said strand stood starkly out on the head of ebony as a streak of ivory. Unfortunately Tony would never learn of the why, as Jason ignored his question. _Clueless and manner-less_ Tony thought.

"Cut the shit, where's Red Robin?"

"You haven't found him yet? He's chilling in Cancun."

_Slam. _Tony didn't need to see the man to feel the heat of anger exploding out of Jason. He could have been in Wisconsin and still have been in the blast radius.

"Why does everyone here think this is a joke." He latched onto Tony's hand which had inched too close to the muzzled dogs that Jason had for hands. Tony was pulled forward, his shoulder slammed into the table making him splurge out a muffled sound. "Someone's going to come for the us, maybe friendly maybe not. I need to find him, it's in both our best interests."

Nails dug into his hand, it was being twisted causing him to curve with it to prevent spraining or breaking. He didn't risk pulling away fearing that he'd hear a snap. This was significantly less fun.

"I'm gambling for the friendly ones." He pulled tighter till Tony's wrist couldn't be strained any further. "You guys should hope its the other ones." Then Jason pulled more. Excruciating. Harrowing. Agonizing. The limit had been hit and-

_Snap. _

Tony almost didn't hear what Jason said next over his own screaming.

"So are you going to take me to my brother or not?" Tony had backed near the two sided glass. Jason watched fuming from his place chained to the table. "Or do you want some bats to come break the other hand?"

_Bats... _Walmart boy had never mentioned any bats. That was a problem for future Tony, current Tony was just prepared to get as far away from the psycho brother as he could.

Jason was still yelling as Tony turned tail and backed out and slammed the door, triple checking that it was locked.

Perhaps the brothers were more similar than he had originally thought. They both held a skill for manipulation. Even if the methodologies were rather different in Tony's person opinion, though it was hardly subjective.

Well that and their ability to slip out of unslippable places. A set of dislocated thumbs had gotten another agent a broken leg and a concussion after Jason had gotten out of his cuffs. Walmart Boy's increased security was justifiable in Tony's perspective.

At least things were going fine with Walmart Boy.

* * *

If Tim had been with Tony he would have hummed in agreement with that sentiment. Things had been going just fine. All it took was sedating Black Widow with a sample of his fighting style and he'd gotten a sense of how his door locked. Well that and a returned pain in his stomach... The coffee had been worth it all.

He was getting antsy though. Tim took after Bruce, with his long convoluted plans; Jason on the other hand, Jason was not a master of subtly. He'd been slipped by Fury where Jason was, probably bait based on how easy it was to find. Sometimes though, when a fish is given the option of starving or biting into a suspicious worm, it's worth taking the bite and risking meeting the fisherman on the end of the line.

He doubted Jason had taken the bait. He'd seen it no doubt, though there was most certainly no Cavalry coming for Tim. Hence why Tim had to find Jason, because Jason would not find Tim even if fully equipped to do so.

They just weren't close like that.

He wondered why Nightwing hadn't come yet, or Batman. Not Robin though. Damian, much like Jason, didn't care much about Tim. Dick though, he cared about everyone, and Bruce; Bruce he would have come if he knew. Tim kept telling himself that.

His mind drifted to others. He'd called for Kon. He hadn't come. Neither had Bart, or Cassie. None of them. Casandra hadn't. Steph hadn't. Babs hadn't. They just didn't know. That's why he was alone in the room, his arms chained by a group of people he had never heard of.

They just didn't know.

Tim was glad that they didn't know. The situation was embarrassing. He glad that no one had come. Glad. He was glad the one person who did know wasn't coming. If Jason did come then there went his meticulous planning. Good thing he wasn't.

No one was.

His door swung open and there in all his one eyed glory was the bastard himself, Fury. Tim didn't like Fury. Fury reminded him of a Batman that cared about Tim's in the way a hunter cared about a deer.

"Come on kid." He went over to Tim unhooking his lock from the bed so that Tim could move beyond his bed or bedpan. He held onto Tim by the chain linking the handcuffs. Tim stumbled forward his stomach hurting slightly still. He should have twirled less while messing with Clint.

Fury led him out the door where two agents followed them as they walked. Tim had been in the possession of the Avengers for just over a week at this point and Fury had come to visit every day he'd been conscious.

It always sucked.

Sure, it was a great time to learn information. Fury let it slip out all the time. Even taking Tim for walks was a mistake on Fury's part. On past days he would lead Tim to the lab to look at his suit and ask questions about it. Tim often contemplated the larger intent, Fury, Tim suspected, was not as careless as he let on.

He really wanted Tim to take the bait, and Tim was prepared to take it hook, line, and sinker. His plan accounted for it. It accounted for if Fury knew his plan accounted for it. Tim wasn't too full of himself to say that he sometimes overthought things. Overthinking things is the only reason Tim's alive though, so he'd deal with the paranoia. It was just a bat thing.

"So kid." They got into the elevator. It wasn't a tight fit, there was still a lot of space in the elevator, but Fury's constant watch made him claustrophobic and the elevator emphasized it. "Who are you?" He didn't wait for Tim's parry continuing before he could cut him off. "I don't mean your civilian identity, who is Red Robin?"

They had come out at one of the unused floors that Fury often liked to take Tim to where he could avoid the Avengers and the general public. Tim considered the question. The genuine tone unsettled Tim as Fury never seemed genuine. The guy was a total snake.

"I work in Gotham with Batman."

"Who is Batman."

Tim stopped in his tracks, though he was jerked forward a bit as Fury didn't stop immediately and still had a hold of Tim.

"You aren't one of the people who thinks that he's a myth still right?" Tim asked. "People haven't believed that for years."

"I have never heard of a Batman until I met you and your uh…"

"Brother." Tim supplied. It felt weird to say. That's what they were though, in some tangled way of the word. Didn't make it anymore normal.

"Brother," Fury continued, smirking as he said it. "Brought him up."

Tim hummed while thinking, his fingers tapping on his leg. Everyone knew of Batman, it was only the superstitious who thought he was a myth. A myth can't punch someone in the face though, and Batman could do that, he'd seen it plenty of times.

"Batman watches over Gotham." He watched Fury intently. Fury was nodding as Tim talked, he had begun to drag him along on their walk again. "A vigilante I guess."

"And your connection to him? You said you worked with him?"

Tim didn't like answering the questions everyone knew the answer to. It made him queasy when the ulterior motive wasn't present. Everyone had an ulterior motive.

"He trained all the robins."

"There's more of you." Concern edged into Fury's voice.

Tim ignored Fury as they stopped to look outside of a window. The sun held high in the sky and the city below them was bustling. Below them, as they were so high up, it was nice; almost like being on the rooftops of Gotham againn. Just cleaner and brighter.

"I'm going to ask some questions." He stated. He reached a hand out to touch the glass. Sure the city was nice, but he'd prefer to be home. Even if no one was looking for him, Gotham was still his home with or without Nightwing, Batman, and all the others. Sure, it was lonelier, but home is home.

They just don't know.

"Who are the Avengers?"

Tim was too busy being homesick to notice the shadow coming towards the building.

* * *

Jason had found it extremely stress relieving to break the wrist of Tony. Sure, he still hadn't been able to cross examine where he thought Tim was with what someone else knew, but it'd have to do. He needed to find Tim.

When Tony had left, he'd been expecting someone to come in and tighten his restraints more, that's what they'd done the last time. He was just hoping they didn't remove his bathroom privileges. That'd just be inhuman- and remove the only time when he wasn't chained to that stupid metal table. His only time to attack. He needed that privilege for several reasons.

No one came for at least two hours. When someone finally did stalk in, he recognized her as the woman he'd fought in the hallway. The one he could've beat if stupid Tim didn't have to be on the cusp of death.

He hoped Tim wasn't dead.

She watched him with disdain. He offered her his most charming smile.

"I promise I didn't mean to break him."He put his hands in the air as much as he could feigning innocence. "It's just that bones, well you know how they are." He made a crack noise with his mouth.

"I'm not here about Tony."

"Then let's agree to forget what I just said."

"It's about Walmart- Red Robin."

Jason stiffened a bit, but tried not to let on how intently he was paying attention now. He tried to remain lax, knowing full well that both agents saw through his bullshit.

"What about him?"

"Do you know of any masked Assassins?"

Jason knew this would happen. It happened because these thickheaded agents couldn't get it through their brains that he had to find the replacement. His rage started to bubble, building up inside him. He didn't care if they knew he could undo this handcuffs. That they were child's play. He didn't care if they took away his only lock pick.

He worked on the one discreetly. He slammed his other hand on the table redirecting attention to it. Another slam on the table disguised the click as the right one popped open. "What do you mean masked Assassins?"

He didn't care if she saw him unlock the left one, he could do it before she made it to the table. If they took Timmy…

Widow took notice of what was going down. She jumped forward as the left one clicked off. She was tackled mid jump by Jason who soared over the table towards her. They crashed against the ground with her taking the blunt of the fall.

"What happened to Red Robin?"

* * *

The assassin had found his rulers prize. Sure he had gotten away at first, an inter-dimensional mistake. There he was though. The Detective. The one Ra's had sent him for. The charge was at the window completely unaware.

He hadn't expected it to be so easy. The teen held himself strangely, the cut on his stomach inflected by another Assassin hadn't healed yet. He was without his gear, his belt, his mask.

Defenseless. Weak. Just a Child.

The buildings defenses had been overturned two rooftops ago. Now it was just a matter of getting in, grabbing the Detective, and getting out.

He braced preparing the jump.

He wasn't used to his jobs being this easy.


	4. Chapter 4: I Want my Damn Bagel

Sorrow filled his chest as starred towards the city with his head lulled against the glass. He could almost imagine the coolness of it was the night air hitting his face as he danced across rooftops.

His tugging thoughts of home grabbed him by the shoulders and shook him till he ached all over. Gotham was disgusting compared to New York, but he couldn't help but imagine it through rose-colored glasses.

"You don't know who the Avengers are." Fury said without inflection. "Neither did Hood; though he seemed more… pissed off about it."

_How eloquent_. Tim didn't stop looking from the window. "Your detective skills continue to astonish me."

It would have seemed merciful to onlookers, Fury letting Tim watch the skyline. It wasn't. It was locking a starving coyote inches away from an abandoned Thanksgiving dinner and hoping it submit before it chewed its own leg off. He could gain some freedom, he just needed to divulge all Bruce's secrets.

Yeah, no. He'd rather chew off his own leg

"You aren't from around these parts are you, kid?"

"Suppose not."

He'd long since figured out Fury didn't mean it at face value, the drastically different New York city had been hinting how far from home he was. Tim wilted deeper into the floor; the pain of longing for something he wasn't sure how to return to overwhelming. His only feasible connection to home was locked in a Helicarrier probably stewing with hatred for Tim.

At least some things stayed constant.

"The Avengers are the good guys; they help people. You can trust them."

"Everyone thinks they're one of the good guys. I think I'm one of the good guys, but you don't trust me."

Fury paused. His shadow perched over Tim shading him from the moonlight even further than the glass already did. "Suppose so."

He hugged his knees as they lapsed into an uncomfortable silence. He'd sell one of his kidneys if it meant he got to feel the brisk night air and have a shot of adrenaline. And he'd thought coffee withdrawal had been bad.

When he had wished for a thrill though, he hadn't meant for someone to cut the lights. Still, it got his heart pumping nonetheless. He stood up, back against the window. "That wasn't you was it?"

"Was about to ask you the same thing, Kid." Click. Fury pulled out his gun, snapping the safety off. "Could be Stark's fault."

"As if we'd be that lucky. You know, I'd be a lot more help if I wasn't handcuffed."

"Not happening." Well, he tried. Fury grabbed him by the arm tugging him behind him. "Stay close, coms are down."

Tim bent his knees into a fighting stance. "Lovely." He squinted into the darkness, he thought he saw movement to the left. Upon turning, he was met with shadows.

Absolutely fucking Lovely.

Tim reasoned that maybe whoever broke in wasn't there for him. After all, he was stuck in a different dimension surrounded by people with Wikipedia pages dedicated to who had personal vendettas against them. What were the odds that the intruder had come for him? Close to null.

That thought was tackled out of his mind as he himself was tackled. He scratched at the hands, an irritated puff leaving his mouth. "Are you kidding me?! Seriously? You guys" He pulled his head into intruder's face. "Tell Ra's to leave me the hell alone."

"You know these guys, Red?" Fury began running, his gun held up as Tim's attacker made for the stairwell. "Mind shifting a bit, so I don't shoot you?"

The arms that held him were squeezing into his abdomen. It took all he had to not hiss in pain. "I would if I could." His arms were trapped and his feet dangled over the floor in a way Dick and Jason had grabbed him before to tease him for his tiny stature.

"Shut up." The assassin glared down at him. The arms tightened and his midriff slapped him full of pain.

"Someone's cranky."

Behind him, Fury was losing purchase on the assassin. They neared the stairwell and Tim groaned. "Don't use the stairs! There's an elevator right there." He twisted to bite the man's arm, it would have been effective if not for the body armor, instead he got a mouthful of fabric.

_Clang._ The door banged against the wall and the man jumped over the side of the railing, skipping a flight of the stairs. Tim cried out on impact, his eyes clamping shut at the shots of pain radiating from his midsection. Fury had started running up the stairs towards the Avengers level.

"Holy fucking hell, do you want me to bleed out and die?"

_Pat. Pat. Pat._ Fury's footfalls were erratic. He doubted Fury or the Avengers would be able to stop the assassin in time. Not unless Tim put up one hell of a fight. His brain did a record scratch and he reconsidered the thought; he stopped fighting.

Why waste such a beautiful opportunity?

The assassin left the stairwell after climbing down two floors. Tim took sight of the sizable cut in the pane of glass. He whistled, mock impressed. "Wow, how'd you get the alarms off."

"Shut up."

The assassins made for the hole and Tim could feel the wind hitting his face. The actual wind whipping across his face, it was illustrious. He took a breath enjoying how it felt against his scratchy throat. Gold and red blocked his indulgence.

"That's not very nice," Iron-Man said. "Why don't you set Walmart Boy down and we can discuss proper etiquette together."

Tim would have dragged his hands down his face if he could move his arms past his elbows. _I can't believe that stuck._ He just wished to whatever divine figure chose to make his life a living joke that Jason or Damian never caught wind of the name; he rather liked his dignity.

He was tugged forward as the assassin jumped on top of Iron-Man, tossing something onto his back before diving off like an Olympic swimmer into a decent guided by a grappling hook.

In the distance, he heard a crack of electricity accompanied by the distinctive sound of metal hitting concrete. Right as the crash of Iron-Man doing a water-less cannonball sounded out, the assassin's feet hit the nearest rooftop running.

Tim clenched his jaw through the jarring pain waiting untill the tower was out of sight. It took a good ten minutes of rocky running before Tim acted. The man took a jump for the next rooftop and Tim pulled himself forward mid jump making off balancing the man into an uneasy roll.

"Thanks for getting me out of there, what's you're tipping policy?" He was still held, and he elbowed his way out of the grip. "You know what, I'll just Venmo you or something."

He was grasped by the ankle and pulled back into the ground. The man climbed back on top of him, snarling face glaring down not pausing before he sucker punched Tim in the jaw.

He caught the second punch in the chains of his handcuffs twisting till the guy tipped over. Tim shook the cuffs -each shake ringing out a _ting_\- till the assassin's hand got free.

Tim jumped up, kicking towards the man's rib with a barefoot as shoes had been deemed too dangerous for him. If he had been on the fence on if the Avengers' treatment had been dehumanizing, being denied proper footwear would have been the tipping point. At least let him have slippers or something.

The barefoot barely snapped back before the hand grabbed it. The assassin got up, rubbing his side and eyeing Tim's hunched body. Even if his posture had been up to Alfred's impossible standards, the other man would have still loomed over him.

"You can't win this."

Tim rolled his eyes and his shoulders; something popped. He tightened his jaw glaring up at the man. "I've heard that too many times for it to mean anything, buddy." He ground his teeth like a determined herbivore. "Try harder next time."

He launched towards the assassin, his fist catching the assassin's jaw, he punched a second time with his wrist being caught mid-swing. He brought his elbow into the man's kneecap freeing his wrist.

When he tried to back up out of reach, the front of his shirt was grabbed and he was hauled into the air. He kicked against the chest fruitlessly. "You can't win this." The man repeated easily hefting Tim up.

Tim caught sight of the bare hands. He spat at the man's face before biting into the bare fingers. Blood hit his tongue leaving him wanting to reel from the metallic taste, nonetheless, he kept clenching down till something snapped.

He was dropped and landed roughly on his knees and he yelped as his ankle twisted. He got up-despite his ankle stabbing him with a thousand little knives-and regained his stance while blinking through the pain. "I said, I've heard it a million times."

The man made another dash at Tim and he was hit dead on and pulled into the ground. He had his breath knocked out without time to regain it as he was pummeled by elbows and fists.

For the most part, the assassin avoided his stomach apparently not wanting him to bleed out. At least wherever Ra's was, he didn't want Tim to die; It wasn't a soothing thought, but at least someone was somewhat considerate of him- even if they had sent an assassin after him.

The man paused, a grin appearing on the only visible part of his face. "Nice try, Detective."

In the pause, Tim brought his head into the head of assassins and grabbed onto the man's elbows and rolled with him till he was on top. He kept hitting the man till he stopped groaning.

He got up shakily from the rooftop, wiping his bloody fists on his pajama pants. "Fuck you." He'd been about to leave when his foot met a piece of loose gravel. After letting out a string of swears Jason would be proud of, he made his way to the assassin. He took off and slipped into the stolen shoes that were several sizes too big.

He reckoned he looked ridiculous in his oversized pajama pants and shirt. His look a of child who'd snuck into their parents' clothing only accentuated further by the ankle boots that went up a great deal past his ankles. The only thing that would have stopped a possible passerby from laughing would have been the blood covering him; some of it his own, most of it not.

He made his way to the edge of the roof climbing down onto the fire escape, wincing with each step. As the adrenaline wore off he started to realize how many bad life decisions he'd actually made. Nonetheless, he climbed down the ladder coming into the alleyway with a new vigor spurred on by the lucid night air.

_I've made it this far, now I just had to find a Helicarrier._ He struggled to not let a grimace accompany the thought. He'd be fine.

Somehow.

* * *

The back of Widow's head slammed against the floor. Jason glowered as he punched her face. "What happened to him?"

Jason's life was a dumpster fire that smelled of rotten bananas and Tim was the damn discarded cigarette butt that ignited it. He would have preferred to have been kidnapped with Goldie or even the demon of all people. Fucking Tim.

The likelihood of Tim bleeding out in a ditch didn't seem high to Jason, but then again, Tim was a goddamn idiot so who knew. If he was, Jason would slap the life back into him… and steal his shoes, Jason's feet were freezing.

"We don't know what happened to him."

"Bullshit." He pulled her into a headbutt. "What did you bumbling bitches let happen?"

"Maybe let me speak and I can explain." Jason was mildly impressed; he'd expected more yelling and scratching after he'd broke his cuffs. He stood up, pulling her with him.

"What happened."

"Well-" The door banged open and looking like a child who'd walked into to his father dressing up as Santa Clause, stood Hawkeye with his bow drawn. "Clint-."

Hawkeye was apparently enraged by finding out the behind Santa's beard that he shot an arrow towards Jason. Instinct kicked in and he caught the arrow blinking down to where it would have entered his side before he brought it down into Widow's thigh.

That's when the yelling really started-not just Widow-but everyone in the room, himself included. "I think we need to all calm down," Widow said grabbing at the shaft of the arrow.

"I think we're past talking things out!" He brought his knee into Widow's gut and her breath jumped out of her throat. "I have to find the idiot before he gets himself fucking killed"

"Goddammit guess we have to do it this way." Widow scaled him wrapping her legs around his neck. He was punched in the gut by Hawkeye. Jason pushed the arrow shaft in deeper making Widow's off-balance for a moment in which he shook her off by running into a wall. Repeatedly.

She fell to the ground still clutching where she'd been stabbed. "Now I know how Walmart Boy felt."

Hawkeye punched at him with his right hand the other one guarded and wiggly as it hung outside of its sling. Jason pushed it out of the way, his own hand darting towards the quiver like a lizard spitting out its slimy pink tongue to catch a fly. Though his fly was sharp and metal.

Unknownst to Jason, Hawkeye was having some serious déjà vu as he was stabbed in the shoulder yet again. "Holy shit, you guys are related." He pushed Jason off of him.

Jason grabbed him by the cuff of the neck pulling him back in. "Thanks for making my day." He brought Hawkeye into his elbow and he crumpled onto the floor. "I've really enjoyed this." He stepped over Hawkeye towards Widow who was trying to steady herself.

"Fury won't let you reunite with him unless it's on his terms." She had grabbed a concealed pistol aiming it towards him. "It'd be better to just give up now."

"Fury hasn't met a bat before." He slapped the pistol out of her hand and it clattered away from them. He headbutted Widow causing her to topple down beside Hawkeye. The two of them looked like discarded origami figures abandoned by their unskilled creator do to their disfigurement.

His glanced at Clint's boots a small smile forming. He left the room locking it behind him, a new pair of boots laced up tightly. He hadn't realized how much he had missed shoes.

Things had gone alright, now he just needed to find the Replacement and try and save them both from whatever mess the moron had gotten them into. Fucking Tim.

He hoped he wasn't in a ditch.

* * *

Sam had been about to eat a bagel. It was a rather nice bagel with a spread of strawberry flavored cream cheese on it. He had been prepared for that bagel, the perfect end to a great day. He'd finally gotten to go on the Helicarrier and that bagel was going to be his big finale, his triumphant ending crescendo.

He never got to eat his bagel.

Fury made his way to the table where he'd been preparing his crowning glory, a bagel of such magnificence that its legacy would live on in his bloodline. The bagel had been mere inches from his mouth when Fury had to indignantly pipe in.

"Jason's got out and I suspect Red Robin is trying to get here."

He dropped the bagel back onto the plate with the splendid, evenly spread, rose-colored cheese smudged against his face. "Goddammit." He picked it back up, trying to hold it around the cheese as to keep his fingers clean.

He failed; cheese got everywhere.

"Do you need me to go find him? Either of them?" He reluctantly dropped the bagel going to reach for his nearby napkin that he'd laid the plastic cream cheese covered plastic knife on. After wiping his hands off, he leaned back in his chair a smidge making it creak.

"We need Jason to leave. He can't know that Red is coming to him."

"Why?" Sam pulled out the chair next to him a bit. He immediately regretted it as Fury glared at it. Right. Not the time for sitting. He scooted out from his chair, a screech drawing the attention of the others in the room.

"He doesn't know where the kid is, he'll go check at his last known location."

"Avengers Tower."

"Exactly. That's where the others will be waiting for him." Fury's shoulders were tense with a vein threatening to implode right above his left eyebrow. Sam tried very hard to not look at it, he really did… it was just so prominent.

"So we need to find the kid when he gets here."

The vein flared more. Under the silent intensity of Fury, he decided he'd rather die eating his sublime bagel than never getting a taste of it's sweet and salty juxtaposition. He picked it back up not caring of consequential the mess.

"We think he may already be on the ship."

The bagel wavered near his mouth. "You what? You guys, don't know?" He placed a steadying hand behind him. "How do you guys not know if he's on the ship?"

It was a wonder that the vein didn't just pop, but also didn't physically leave Fury's forehead to go and murder Sam where he stood and pin it on his closest living relative. "Just set down the damn bagel and come on."

He did such, leaving it behind on the paper plate he had grabbed. It was one of his proudest moments; not shedding a tear as he had to part with his life's greatest work. He sighed, following Fury out of the cafeteria.

"So where do you think he'd be?"

"The vents."

Sam looked up apprehensive at the ceiling. It made him squirm to think of someone crawling through the air ducts like a human rat. "I didn't even know you could get up there."

"Neither did I."

Fury led Sam through the labyrinth of a Helicarrier, his lips held in a thinned line the entire time. As they walked they came upon two men knocked out cold and left-leaning on the wall.

It was reminiscent of toys left strewn out by a toddler after who'd broken into tears after accidentally breaking them. It caused a shiver to run through his body starting at his neck and scaling down into his toes.

_Freaky_

Sam pressed a hand against their necks. "Which one do you think it was? Little red or big red." Fury said nothing but called someone in to come to pick the pair up.

"Let's keep going."

Fury's long coat billowed behind him as they walked. Sam couldn't help but find it a tad dramatic, but he did regularly dress up as a bird, so who was he to judge?

They'd opened up the stairwell and started walking down. It was awkward, their silence only filled with the slight pitter-patter of their footsteps. Sam swallowed wishing for anything to cut through the awkward atmosphere that suffocated them.

He wishes were answered when a scream sounded out followed by a body tumbling down the stair. Fury didn't even bother to give Sam an overdramatic, knowing look before he started running up the stairs. Sam checked on the woman's neck before following Fury up the stairs.

He'd seen that woman early in the main hull of the Helicarrier. She'd been nice, told him where he could get a good bagel.

When they got to the top of the stairs, the door was opened and the tiny figure of a teen engulfed in oversized clothes was getting smaller. He wore oversized boots that clunked against the ground.

"5th level, heading north towards detainment." Fury yelled into his collar. Sam hoped there was a com there and Fury wasn't just shouting into the distance. He didn't take Fury as the insane type, but he had denied Sam his bagel so who knew. No sane man denied someone their bagel.

"You bring your suit, Wilson?"

"Nope."

The kid was fast, too fast. Red's pajama pants were stained red and Sam decided not to question whose blood it was.

Fury could deal with that shit show.

"What is this kid's problem?" He wheezed to Fury. They'd nearly lost him twice when the boy had made sharp turns or doubled back. His speed hadn't decreased, though some of the overly intense jumps or turns he had to do caused him to swear.

Something was up with his ankle. He suspected adrenaline was the only thing holding Red up, like the strings attached to a marionette to make it dance.

A door opened ahead of them and Agent Coulson popped out in front of the kid. Like a quarterback preparing to tackle the opponent, he bent his knees and held out his hands.

Red jumped, grabbing the shoulders of Coulson and propelling himself past. "Shit, shit, shit," Red said as he landed. A stumble in his step almost allowed Coulson to rebound and grab his arm.

He snatched his arm back and dashed off again. The stumble had caused him to slip up enough though; Fury raised his gun taking aim at Red, Red who couldn't be older than a minor.

Sam pushed Fury's arm down. "He's just a kid, what are you doing?"

Fury pushed Sam off of him. "It's a tranquilizer. Wilson, let go of me." He did so and Fury brought his arm up and let a shot out.

Red ducked down the dart sailing over his head. He looked over his shoulder at them. "Nice shot, not nice enou-" His voice slurred as a second shot entered his leg. "Well, crap."

He took off running again. Sam was starting to hate the teen more with each second he had to chase after him. What kinda kid took a tranquilizer and could push it off for that long. He just wanted to catch Red so he could get back to his bagel.

So Sam ran. He ran for his bagel.

The kid was going surprisingly fast considering the dart sticking out of his calf. Though with each second his run became less of a steady trot and rather an uneasy hip hop; like running after a bunny brandishing a knife.

As they turned the corner, Fury swore beside him. If Sam hadn't been accustomed to categorical dangerous figures, he might have thought the tall man was just a lost employ who'd wandered into the bilge of the Helicarrier.

The man's head jumped up and he half expected to be asked which way to the food court, instead, the man stayed silent though Red Robin ran with more vigor. It wasn't till the kid barreled into the arms of the man that it started to set in.

"You're a fucking idiot, Red" The man picked up their target balancing him on his hip, a pistol brandished in his other hand. "If you guys like your kneecaps you'll back off."

That's when reality finally caught up to him, seeing the heaving teen separated from them by the hulking figure. The barrel of Widow's stolen gun waving at them. They'd done the one thing Fury had told them not to do: They'd let Jason find Red.

_Goddammit__._

Sam and the others stayed fast despite the weapon paraded towards them and the almost annoyed look on Jason's face. Red got more noodly and was held a bit tighter. "Fine. I'm going to fucking enjoy this."

Sam didn't think he'd get to have his bagel.


	5. Chapter 5: Fucking Tim

There in all his sickly, coffee dried glory was the fucker who'd gotten him into this mess in the first place. Fucking Tim. Tim who had the pure gall to look worse than the last time Jason had seen him.

The Replacement had been having brunch with death beforehand, but he'd somehow upgraded that to a three-course meal? What the fuck Tim.

Of course, there was also the people gunning for Timbo.

Tim, who was half dead, was getting chased by not just one person, but three. His annoyance at Tim's condition, though still present, melted away into anger- because who the fuck thought they got to do that the Replacement?

Well, Ra's, Scarecrow, Dr. Light. He could make a rather extensive list if he wanted to with his own name at the bottom scratched out; a thin-faced lie to cover it once being bolded and circled on the list.

Before Jason could grab the moron Tim crumpled into him. Tim's chest heaved against him. "You're a fucking idiot, Red.

Jason slung his arm around Tim, hefting him up onto his hip. He glared at the people who'd been chasing Tim a snarl snapping off his face at them. "If you guys like your kneecaps you'll back off." None of them did, typical. "Fine. I'm going to fucking enjoy this."

Fury, the leader of the crusade, stepped forward, palms extended. "Jason put him down. He doesn't have to be your obligation anymore. Give him to us."

He tightened his grip on Tim, Tim who, while in a hazy daze surrounded by people hell-bent on kidnapping him, laughed. Fucking laughed.

"Heh… You called me an idiot. At least I didn't let them know my name." Tim's words slurred together as though he'd stumbled into a winery and went to town. A victorious finger wiggled in the air, his other hand holding onto Jason by the neck, with his head wobbling into his shoulder. God did the kid have a bony face.

"Sorry, Red. That's on you too."

"Ah damn. Really?" He mumbled into his shoulder. He dropped his hand to join the other around Jason's neck. Tim's hold should have been tighter, it shouldn't have felt like balancing a drunk spaghetti noodle with a vengeance to slip his grip- be it a conscious effort or not.

"Yeah, ya Dipshit, Really." If Jason hadn't known better some of the eyebrows of the 'Lets Harrow Tim' club had softened. "Now move your bony nose some, I can feel it denting me."

Tim responded by groaning and digging his face further into Jason's shoulder. "No."

Jason just felt he had to reiterate: fucking Tim . No trademark could emphasize it enough; no circle 'R', no 'TM', could possibly indicate how much the word 'fucking' should be associated with Tim's goddamn name.

Out of the trio chasing for Tim, he recognized two of them: Fury and Agent Coulson. Both were complete bastards in every sense of the word."So, about those kneecaps."

"Give us Walmart Boy, he's hurt. We can help both of you"

Tim lifted his head to glare. "Fuck you." His head sagged into Jason's shoulder with more vigor. Ouch. Jason readjusted his grip, so he held Tim half bridal against him with his head hanging off his shoulder instead of into it.

Jason saw their tense shoulders, all of their mouths mid-opened prepared to ask him something. To tell him to put Tim down, why even give them the chance.

.He didn't hesitate though the world did as he pulled the trigger. The bullet made its way, through the thick molasse of time, towards Fury's kneecap.

Like a racer paces from last, getting hit with their second wind, the world sped back up, desperate to get 38th out of 39th. The bastard with cheese on his face pushed Fury aside-the bullet whizzing past both of them-and he dashed arms outstretched for Jason.

Scratch that- not for Jason, for Timbo.

In his tranquilized journey through hell, Tim's arm had slipped and hung down. The bastard grabbed onto Tim's twig arm and started to pull. Tim's eyes squinted, confusion clouded them over.

"Hgh?!" Tim's body started to slip as he mumbled disorientedly.

Hell no.

Jason pistol-whipped the man across the cheek sending him reeling, a second gunshot grazing his thigh. "Let's all back the hell up. The next one won't cut so close."

"Sam, pull back."

"But-"

"Pull back."

The bastard did such. Tim had retracted his arms gripping onto Jason's shirt instead, a glossy look reminiscent of a corpse in his eyes.

"Look here, this is what's going to happen." He gestured with his gun, taking a moment to point it at each member of the trio. "I'm going to take Walmart Boy and you guys get to keep your ability to walk. Capisce?"

"Fuck You!" Tim slurred, hands pushing against Jason. "Not my nam-" His words dropped off as his eyes closed, the sedative finally settling in.

Fucking Tim. What a moron. He adjusted his grip nonetheless.

"Capice?"

All three of them took a collective step back. Jason doubted Fury hadn't called in some backup so he himself, backed up while waving his gun towards them.

"I'm going to leave and if I see anyone... well you know what will happen." He backed towards the stairwell he had come out of.

"Just give us, Red."

Why couldn't Fury comprehend it? Why couldn't he drag it through his one-eyed, thick-headed skull lacking a brain bigger than a pea that Jason wasn't about to give him Tim like some lost puppy he didn't know what to do with. Tim wasn't a puppy and Fury sure as hell wasn't an animal shelter.

"I'm not giving you my fucking brother, so stop asking."

Said brother was currently drooling on him. Ew. Maybe he was more like a dog than he'd originally thought. Fucking Tim.

He tried to open the door and an awkward moment passed between the four as he struggled to find the door handle without turning around. His hand grabbed it and pulled the wrong way.

"You have to push, it's not a pull door."

"Just shut up."

He pushed into the stairwell gun aimed forward. He hadn't expected to reach a wall so soon. The door closed and before he could determine why someone would put a wall there, an arm grabbed and spun him around. Captain America, the absolute bitch, held him up by the collar. Fury's backup had gotten there sooner than expected.

Only the tips of his toes touched the ground, but Jason shifted-to the best of abilities- to shield Tim with his body. Captain America hesitated in the punch he'd been about to throw. His face oddly soft despite the gun pointed at him. Jason didn't care about whatever sentimental realization the man was having; he shot that fucker in the foot.

Jason ran up the stairs tossing a: "Fuck you!" as he got further away. Every So often, he'd jangle Tim a bit too roughly making him gasp in his drugged up state. Why couldn't he get cut open somewhere more convenient? The stitching on the stomach made everything so much more difficult.

He reached the top level, both thankful and annoyed no one had intercepted him as he'd climbed the stairs. On one hand, it'd made things easier, but on other, he really wanted to let his anger out.

He tried the door and found it locked. He shot the gun at the handle, but it clicked; of course, he'd wasted the last bullet on Captain America. He let out a long sigh before he slammed the gun against the handle repeatedly.

Sometimes you just had to things the old fashioned way.

The handle fell of clattering past his foot and bouncing down the stairs. Plat, plat, plat. He kicked open the door which had taken longer than he wanted to open.

Better than it not being able to open it all. He pushed the thought away, he wouldn't run out of time again, not with his moronic replacement depending on him.

No more timers clicking down to zero.

The air slammed across his face, another complication arising. Since when had they'd been in the air? Tim let out an indiscernible murmur. He seemed immensely less annoying asleep; more like a child from Crime Alley than the irritating asshole who'd replaced him.

"Alright, Red. Let's steal a helicopter."

The roof was covered in them, large and small. He took off with his accomplice climbing into one to his left that had an open middle section. He swung into the cockpit, though in doing so, he accidentally banged Tim's head against the roof.

Tim groaned, Jason swore.

He lowered Tim into the co-pilot seat, managing the unconscious fuck up with more care. He figured the less Tim hit his head against things the better off he'd be. Just a hunch though.

After buckling Tim in like a sugar crashed toddler, he got to work on hot-wiring the Helicopter. His head ducked under the controls his fingers dancing through the wires with a proficiency only a previous Crime Alley child turned protégé of Batman could manage.

"Blondie?" Tim's words slurred out of his mouth. A sweltering stew of nonsense boiled over a flame of sedatives.

"Replacement, I need to shut your mouth for a hot second. I gotta focus." He pulled two wires together and the engine started to hum.

Hell yeah.

"Blondie," Tim mumbled with more urgency, the stew reaching a boil. Jason got out from under his seat, his hands gripping the controls. Tim reached over and slapped him, it was a light slap. No real power behind his sluggish movements. Still, what the hell Replacement .

"Blondie." Tim raised his hand for a second slap, Jason caught his wrist.

"What the fuck are yo-" He looked past Tim out the window. "Oh shit, Blondie's right." Captain America, was dragging himself across the landing pad towards their helicopter, blood trailing behind him from his foot.

Hell No.

He pulled back on the controls, the helicopter starting rise as his version of Michael Myers lumbered towards them. Though, instead of a butcher's knife, his reckoning held a star-spangled shield full of more promises than any bloodied knife could hold. Promises of pain, defeat, and just a plain bad day.

Things he'd rather not deal with at that moment.

Their ascent was stalled when the shield banged against the side. He tossed a hand out stopping Tim from jerking forward too much. He was a pizza delivery man, and Tim, his box of precariously stacked pizzas.

"Fuck." The helicopter steadied out and the shield bounced off in a way that broke nearly every rule of physics to return to Captain America's hand. "Replacement, hold onto something- did you seriously go back to sleep?"

He was going to murder that kid. Tim's head rested against the window, with small snores escaping. This kid could stay awake for days, but one tranquilizer and he decided that Captain America trying to kill them was good white noise to nap to.

Fucking Tim.

The helicopter lifted off and he pulled it towards the edge of the landing zone. It was pulled to a stop as if tethered to the roof; he hadn't seen anything holding it down though. He glanced out Tim's window.

"What the actual fuck." Captain America was holding onto the edge of the helicopter with sweat plastering his face as he pulled, his other hand gripping a pole on the roof. "Let go, dude."

He didn't, just ground his teeth harder. Jason clicked the helicopter onto autopilot, the end location a random wheat field. He stole Tim's oversized boots and held onto the door frame as he leaned outside the helicopter.

"Seriously, drop Fido." He threw Tim's steel-toed boot with much force as he could towards Captain America. It hit him square between the nose, leaving a red mark. Still, his grip didn't break.

"Just stop the plane and we can help both of you." He spoke through rough breaths. "The Avengers help people, let us help you."

"I just threw a shoe in your face, you're holding onto my plane, and you think now's a good time for a lecture?" He tossed the other shoe harder. "Oh my fucking god, let go."

He grabbed his empty gun throwing that as well. It hit with more volume and an audible thump. Still didn't work. He swore some more looking for other throwable things in the helicopter. It was stark besides the parachutes, and he wasn't about to throw those. He wasn't an idiot.

"Looks like your out of things to toss. Calm down and we can talk things out. You're acting unreasonably."

"Don't act like you have any dignity in this situation." He crawled out of the safety of the hull and grabbed onto an outcropping pole on the exterior of the helicopter. He kicked his foot downward. "Cause we're both fresh out of dignity."

He'd have to play this up for Timmers if he asked what had happened. He didn't want to lose any of his hard-earned reputation of being a badass. Not that he cared what the Replacement though of him of course.

He kicked down at Captain America's hand. "At this point, this is honestly just sad." Captain America grunted as Jason's foot smashed against his hand. "Why don't you let go and we can both never speak of this?"

The wind tore against Jason turning him into a paper airplane in the midst of a tornado. It was a bitter gust, cutting through the thin clothing they'd given him. The spy organization seemed rather well off, they didn't have to skimp on the quality so much- just plain rude.

"I can see you care about him. I won't let Fury tear him from you again."

"Shut up-" Jason stomped on the hand again, channeling all his anger into its descent-"Don't act like you know me." He brought his boot down a third time, he could see it in the grip, the fingers were losing the battle for the helicopter.

"Rogers?" Ting. A bullet embedded itself in the metal beside Jason. Well shit. "What is going on?"

With his final stomp, Captain America's grip broke and the plane started to rise. Jason still dangled off the side, a monkey who'd climbed a palm tree in the midst of a tropical storm. More bullet shots hit the helicopter, he yelled as one entered his shoulder.

"Holy shit, do you guys want me to fall to my death?"

He started to pull himself back into the plane. It was difficult, with only one hand. He managed to get himself half in half out, unable to gather the last bit of strength he needed. His breath hitched as his altitude and his chances of going splat against the roof were directly proportional.

The ground was sure far away.

He tried to pull himself in more but banged back against the floor. His grip started slipping, the tropical storm whisking away his monkey self. He grit his teeth. The gunshots had stopped.

Hopefully, it was because they didn't want him to die and not because he was too far gone for them to care.

He steadied himself. The ground beneath him, tiny. The odds of getting the floor under him, tiny. The Replacement in front of him, tiny. Wait.

"Sit your scrawny ass back down."

"No."

Tim was holding onto one of the chairs, his other hand grabbing Jason under his bad shoulder. "If you fall off this plane, I will make your life a living hell, Timbit."

Tim's eyes lacked awareness, still foggy from whatever they'd pumped into him. For all he knew, Tim could have been sleepwalking during a fever dream. If so, muscle memory had kicked in hard, even if Tim's grip wasn't very strong, the anchoring was enough for Jason to pull himself into the helicopter. His chest heaved because ouch.

Tim collapsed on top of him, the final stash of his energy pitching him past his limits. Jason scooped the kid back up, his steps wobbling as he headed to the cockpit. He slid Tim back into his seat, not hitting his head on anything that time.

Wherever Jason had been was long past their sights, past the clutches of whatever new spy organization had sprung from the cesspool that infected their screwed up world.

He buckled Tim in before falling into his own seat. He gripped where the bullet had entered. That'd be hell to deal with. He sunk deeper into the seat, the only thing visible to him the clouds.

The clouds were beautiful; the rising sun had turned them a rosy lilac color. He watched them with hooded eyes, they were especially dazzling without the threat of falling through them.

Thank god for fucking Tim.

* * *

A bird squawked, shocked to see a gold and red metallic one gliding beside it. Tony offered it a salute before speeding up his thrusters and letting out a boom . A beeping GPS led him to his Christmas gift for Fury; it was already gift wrapped in a metal lining.

How thoughtful.

He set down inside of the helicopter, his feet clanging upon landing. "Hey Brothers Red." Usually, he would have opened his faceplate to boast, but the two had the tendency to break stuff. He felt his face was too beautiful to be broken.

"Jason? Walmart Boy?" He looked into the cockpit and saw a good deal of blood, but neither of the men. He sighed placing his hands on his hips looking a great deal like a parent who'd just seen their child's report card. He scanned the blood, deciding a sample would likely be useful in the future.

"It appears the two have vacated the helicopter. Would you like me to call Fury for you?" Tony groaned instead of answering and flopped down into one of the not blood-soaked seats. "Sir? Are you alright?"

He ran a metal hand down his metal face. It let out an unfavorable screech of metal rubbing against metal. "No, I'm not alright! Now I'll have to get Fury a gift card instead!"

* * *

Tim woke up feeling like he'd been run over by not just one truck, but at least seven. He sat up and decided it was more likely to have been eight. Below him, an old shirt acted as his pillow and his arm was handcuffed to the column beside him.

"What the fuck, lay back down-" Jason came into the room holding a paper bag-"Before I handcuff both your hands." He spoke without looking at Tim, dark circles under his eyes.

Tim pulled against the chains. "What the hell, Jason?"

He stopped midstep, breaking the rhythm of his steady trot. "Oh, you're actually conscious." Jason set down the bag, Tim took notice of his bandaged arm. "I liked you better when you weren't talking by the way."

Tim jangled the cuffs. "Will you just take these off? Why am I even handcuffed?"

An accusatory finger wiggled at him and Jason made no motion to get closer. "Drugged you is the worst. You kept waking up and making stupid decisions. You tried to eat my sandwich the wrapper still on," He paused, adding as a side thought: "And you kept almost pulling your stitches cause you wouldn't stay fucking still."

"Just uncuff me. I need to talk to you about a complication."

"Wow, I take it back, non-drugged you is way more annoying." He played with a bobby pin he'd pulled out from behind his ear, a smirk on his face. "You haven't even said thank you yet for me saving your tranqued up ass."

"Jason-"

"You know, it's so easy to lose bobby pins, Replacement." He twirled the bobby pin between his fingers. "I was actually talking to Steph and Babs about it a week or so ago, how you can just drop one and it seems to pop out of existence.

Tim rubbed his temple with his free hand. "Jason, will you just unlock them?"

Jason fumbled with the bobby pin. "Whoops, almost lost it."

Tim took a deep breath that he instantly regretted. Wow, his abdomen had not liked that. Jason winced alongside him. He waited for the pain to pass. "Thank you, Jason."

That had hurt even more than the breath had.

"That's the spirit, Timbo." Jason crouched beside him, sticking the bobby pin into the cuff on his wrist. It popped off and clattered against the floor. Tim started to stand up, but Jason pushed him back down. "You aren't about to start cartwheeling, are you? Because I don't want to have to stitch your sorry ass back up."

"I'm not Dick." Jason glared and Tim continued. "No, I'm not about to start doing acrobatics, Jay."

"Hell no, you're not." Jason went over to his paper bag as Tim stood up, a steadying hand on the column beside him. It looked like they were in an old factory of some sort, the scent of charcoal still hanging in the air.

Classy.

Jason threw something at Tim from the bag, a large sweatshirt and a pair of pants. "I couldn't find the kids' section, so the pants are going to be big."

"Jason, I'm seventeen. I don't shop in the kids' section."

"Wow! Thank you, Jason." His voice rose several pitches as he mimicked Tim whose voice was not that high. "How thoughtful of you, Jason." He dropped back to his normal tone and he tossed Tim a belt. "Here, so they don't fall off."

"Thanks." He mumbled trying to ignore Jason's victorious lopsided grin. Jason went back to rumbling through his bag and pulled out two wrapped sandwiches, but put one back and started chomping down on his own.

"You can have your sandwich after you change. Bloodstained isn't a good look, Timmers." Jason turned around letting Tim change in privacy. Tim slid on the pants and was regretfully thankful for the belt as they were too big. After securing the buckle he sat back down, his midsection aching.

"By the way, we're in a different dimension."

Jason turned around mid-bite. "Wow, and I just thought B was being a bitch." He gave Tim his sandwich. "Let's be honest, he probably being one anyways though. And Timbo, I kinda figured out when Dick wouldn't take my calls. Oh, and when I found out Gotham doesn't exist."

Tim rolled his eyes and took notice of the chill entering his feet. "Where are my shoes?"

"Tossed them out a plane."

They'd been in a plane, he certainly didn't remember that. Everything past his initial chase was hazy. He mostly remembered a lot of yelling, though that could have just been his internal monologue. "Why?"

"For reasons I won't discuss without my lawyer present." A smirk flowered from knowing something Tim didn't. He was hit with a splitting headache fanned by Jason till it became a flame of omnipresent annoyance.

"Jay, I had to fight an assassin for the shoes."

"Oh boo hoo, who hasn't? We can go to Target later and get you some light up Sketchers- so Ra's is after you?"

"Guess so."

"Better you than me." Jason's eyes didn't meet Tim, instead looking over his head at the column. "Why's he such a creep anyways? You ghost him on tinder or something?"

"Don't ask me." Tim hugged his knees and started to eat his sandwich. It was a damn good one too. Shame whatever sandwich shop Jason got it from probably didn't exist in their dimension. "I think he's just predetermined to be creepy."

Jason laughed and sat opposite to Tim. "Seems about right. He's all ' hello Detective ' to B. Like what the fuck?"

"Fucking weird." Tim agreed, taking another bite of his sandwich. "I don't really remember a ton after the sedative started to kick in. How'd you get out?"

"Let me tell you, Walmart Boy, I had to use all my ass-kicking capabilities."

Tim choked on his sandwich, his face paleing. "What did you just call me?"


End file.
